


let the games begin

by doublemuggle



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Patrick Sharp is an idiot, it felt weird not mentioning Abby Sharp, she's the queen, so this is set in some nebulous au where abby was perfect elsewhere, so what else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:19:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublemuggle/pseuds/doublemuggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brandon Saad makes Patrick Sharp stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let the games begin

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic on the archive oh me oh my. I'm tired so the end petered out but I guess I'll edit it if I'm not being silly.

Patrick Sharp has always resented the idea that he’s the prettiest guy on the team. First things first, he’s _ruggedly handsome_ fuck you very much and second… Well, it’s not like he could be the prettiest when Brandon Saad exists. When he smiles in postgame interviews, Sharpy quite literally goes weak at the knees. And at the club? Forget about it. He’s aware how pathetic he is, a grown man watching someone over ten years his junior flail on the dance floor, but he’s always had a thing for people who dance poorly.

“Seriously man, the cow eyes are getting pathetic,” Tazer says from his seat in the booth. Sharpy raises one cheerful hand to flick him off, eyes never leaving Brandon’s truly atrocious dancing. Brandon looks up from the shouted conversation he’s been having with Shaw and makes eye contact with Patrick, grinning wildly and waving. He’s such a nerd. Sharpy’s helpless.

“I’m gonna woo him,” Patrick declares. Every last player at the table rolls their eyes, and Sharpy bristles indignantly.

“I am! He’s gonna fall in love!”

* * *

Patrick will admit it, he’s not the best wooer. It’s hard okay? Brandon’s a surprisingly hard guy to read and it’s not like Sharpy can just figure out what he likes when it seems like he likes everything. There’s only one thing he’s seen him really truly enjoy, and that’s when Sharpy makes him laugh. So he’s gonna go with that.

He doesn’t know how hard he wants to push at first, so starting out slow is probably the best option. As such, he goes to Build a Bear and find a bear that calmly tells Brandon to be his, sets it in Brandon’s stall along with an enormous bouquet of roses and a sign that says “I love you beary much,” and waits.

The idea is that it’s so over the top that Brandon won’t be able to resist, but it doesn’t quite work out that way. He takes one look at Sharpy’s signature and breaks down giggling.

“Patrick, April Fool’s Day at least three months away. This would be better sent to Kaner signed love Jonny,” Brandon chuckles, shaking his head. Sharpy feels like tearing up. On the one hand, that joke- so beautiful, so in his humor, he could kiss Brandon. On the other, he should have realized that Brandon might not take it seriously.

“You’re ridiculous,” Brandon sighs, still laughing as he heads onto the ice. The way he looked laughing and that ass. Yeah, Patrick’s in love.

* * *

The next chance he has is in the middle of a road trip. Brandon lets Patrick take his bag onto the bus after the game, a terrible idea really, and Sharpy goes scrambling for a scrap of paper and a sharpie (heh). After frantically packing everything that isn’t underwear into his own bag, he scrawls out _you’d look better anyway, xoxo sharpy_ before dropping it carefully on top of the underwear and zipping it up.

Hopefully this is the right balance of joking and cute and Brandon will swoon into his arms like in the romance novels that he totally doesn’t read. But first Brandon has to see it. Brandon must sleep in his boxers (and isn’t that just an image, Brandon in bed in just his boxers) because Sharpy falls asleep without hearing anything. Around six the next morning however, a full half an hour before Patrick’s set to wake up for the flight, there’s a pounding on his door. When he opens it, he nearly faints.

Brandon is standing there in just a pair of grey boxer briefs looking sleep rumpled and vaguely grumpy. His face has set into an adorable pout and he is actually rubbing at his eyes, it’s disgustingly cute.

“What’s up?” Sharpy asks. He’s heard the face he makes when he’s feigning innocence is cute.

“Where did you put my clothes?” Brandon moans, pushing past Sharpy into his room.

“Aw come on, you’d look fine,” Sharpy purrs. He goes to lean against the bathroom doorway but misses and ends up smacking his head on the wall. It’s official, he’s the quirky rom com hero who falls down a lot.

“Sharpy, it’s cold, give me my clothes.”

“I’ll keep you warm.”

Brandon throws him this look that’s impressively contemptful for such a cute face and goes back to rooting through Sharpy’s bags. He finally finds them hidden in the bathroom.

“Thanks for the interesting wakeup, see you on the plane,” Brandon calls, waving over his shoulder as he walks out the door.

“Hng,” Sharpy grunts, eyes focused on his ass.

* * *

As January rolls in, the marketing team decides that it’s time to do some Valentine’s Day promotions while they’ve still got the time.

“Alright kids, pair up and put on your ugly sweaters,” the marketing lady tells them briskly. If Patrick had to guess what his dive for Brandon looks like, it’s probably a cross between something from the Matrix and the diving event at the Olympics that he half watched last year. The point is, he gets his hands on Brandon, and the Manchild looks perfectly happy to be his partner.

“Let’s pick our sweaters, I want something good,” Brandon says. Sharpy ends up with a truly heinous affair covered in love hearts on a check pattern, while Brandon picks up a Disney themed one. They’re pretty bad, he’ll admit. Brandon still pulls it off, the fucker.

“Alright boys, we’re looking for awkward prom photo, okay? As uncomfortable as you can get,” the photographer tells them, putting himself behind the camera. The first few are comedy gold, he’s sure, because he goes for as wide eyed and terrified as he can. But when the photographer tells them that they can feel free to mix it up, Patrick decides to have his own fun.

“Dip me,” he murmurs. Brandon stares at him for a minute and Sharpy is honestly a little surprised when he complies. The important part is that he does it, and suddenly Sharpy as a strong arm around his back and Brandon’s face inches from his. This plan may have backfired. He’s ninety percent sure that his face is the color of Brandon’s sweater and he is completely incapable of looking away from his eyes.

“Good boys, very convincing.” Sharpy hears the photographer faintly, and he leans in just a touch closer, almost there and- _smack_.

“Shit Sharpy, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Brandon yelps, dropping to his knees and cradling the back of his head carefully.

“I- that’s okay.”

He’s such a dink.

* * *

Okay, obviously he’s gonna have to kick it up a notch. This is his life, he will deal with the hand he’s given. With flavored lube.

He would pay to be kidding, honestly he would, but he heard Brandon talking the other day about how he’s interested by the idea of flavored lube and he’s helpless at the thought. So he makes a nice little basket, filled to the brim with all the weirdest flavors he can find, and decides to hand deliver it to Brandon.

“What on earth is this?” Brandon laughs.

“It is a gift basket for those who love you most,” Sharpy declares, bowing. He’s a little drama queen, he won’t deny it.

“It’s totally full of- lube? What the hell, I didn’t know they made it in cotton candy flavor!” Brandon exclaims. He looks bizarrely thrilled.

“So… You wanna try it out?” Sharpy offers, leaning (successfully) on the doorframe.

“Yeah, thanks Sharpy! I’ll see you later!” Brandon says. He heads off into his apartment, obviously expecting Sharpy to see himself out. Patrick leans his head against the door as soon as he’s closed it, overwhelmed by the visual and the obliviousness of his chosen heart throb.

* * *

He’s reaching the end of his rope. In fact, his life is ridiculous. But he’s going to push, dammit, because Brandon Saad is worth it.

“I need you to put the kiss cam on us tonight.”

The jumbotron operator stares at him for a moment.

“I’ll give you fifty bucks.”

“No man, I don’t need bribery. I just can’t believe the rumors are true,” the man shrugs, shaking his head.

“What, that I’m into Brandon?”

“No, that you’re this sad about it.”

Ouch.

The burn from the guy running the screen is worth it, because in the middle of a break on the bench, he looks up at the screen and sees himself and Brandon.  It takes a lot for him not to celebrate.

“Hey Manchild, check it out,” Sharpy says, knocking him and pointing at the screen.

“Eh, look at that! Shawzy, we’re on the screen!” Brandon leans over and plants a solid one on the kid’s lips as Sharp weeps into his gloves.

* * *

This is it. His last chance. He trolled the darkest places on the internet for this.

Fanfiction.

He fights through twenty thousand words of Jonny and Pat falling in love slowly (which is much more romantic on paper than in real life) just to look for one mention of him and Brandon. He reads about Sidney Crosby more times than he cares to admit (and what the fuck he played with the guy for like three weeks). Eventually though, he finds the perfect piece. It’s long without being overwhelming, full of all the feelings and shit that Patrick actually feels, and it ends with him topping the hell out of Brandon. It’s perfect.  He texts it to Brandon without so much as a description.

Brandon doesn’t reply.

Honestly, he’s sitting at home sweating when he gets a knock on his door.

“What the fuck was that?” Brandon asks. Oh shit, Sharpy did not woo him at all. He did a terrible job, and now Brandon’s going to beat the life out of him. At least it will be at the hands of someone pretty.

“It was um, fanfiction?” Patrick yelps, taking a step back.

“Yeah, I know that, but the ending?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the end where you fucked me!”

“Would you not want that?” Sharpy questions delicately.

“Please, I would fuck you so good you’d beg for it, don’t even,” Brandon snaps, rolling his eyes. Patrick plops down cross legged right in the middle of his floor.

“You can’t say things like that, you will break me,” Patrick wheezes.

“I’ll break you anyway, or didn’t you hear my last sentence?” Brandon laughs. Patrick lays his head against the cool floor.

“Wait, so the fanfiction wooed you?” Patrick asks, eyes hopeful.

“Idiot, you being stupid wooed me. I heard you shout your stupid plan at the club, I know what you’ve been doing for the past month,” Brandon shrugs. He’s got a really gorgeous grin when he’s outsmarting Sharpy.

“You’re totally into me!” Sharpy shouts, standing up and dancing around.

“God help me I am,” Brandon sighs back.

“So kiss me already,” Sharpy adds, going for indignant but probably coming off desperate. If the way Brandon kisses him is any indication, he doesn’t mind.


End file.
